When I First Knew You
by Element Wolf
Summary: This story centers around the Nordic Five, and their father, Scandinavia. It starts out with Scandinavia finding Denmark as a baby, and goes on to detail when the other Nordics meet as young children. It is more Denmark-centric than any other character.
1. The First Encounter

**When I First Knew You**

Chapter One: The First Encounter

Scandinavia (sometimes Scania) - or _Ancient_ Scandinavia, as he would later be called - had always been a pretty feisty and reckless person. Even as a child he wasn't tame, and when he was an adult, he became even more wild. He was a free spirit, as many of the other empires and nations around him liked to say. So when he encountered an infant all alone in the woods of the freezing cold north during _wintertime_, he was not exactly sure what to do with it . . . especially because the male (he had been intelligent enough to check the baby's gender parts) infant seemed . . . _different_, somehow. Not just a normal baby, but someone special.

The nation (who represented all of the Viking nations, of course) brought the infant to his older brother, a stoic and stern man who lived in and controlled the area south of Scandinavia. A place that Rome liked to call Germania, where Scandinavia's brother eventually got his name from.

"It seems to me that this boy is like us," were the first words, barely above a mumble, that came out of Germania's mouth when he first examined the child.

"How, exactly?" Scandinavia asked, staring down at the tiny child in wonderment and awe.

"Well . . . you found him in the wilderness, correct?" Germania asked, the slight irritation in his voice evident. "That is usually a first sign. He has no parents, he just seemed to pop out of nowhere . . . it sounds a bit like us."

Scandinavia scoffed slightly. "We have parents!"

Germania raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Well . . . no." Scandinavia frowned slightly, shifting on his feet. "But where else would we have come from?"

His older brother shrugged. "Nowhere. And anywhere, I suppose. We grew up with just ourselves."

"So you think that this boy is like us?" Scandinavia frowned, glancing down at the infant that was currently asleep in his arms.

Germania gave an expansive sigh. "What did I just say, Scania? Of course I think that he is like us. Why else would I have said it?"

"I dunno, I mean, what if he was just abandoned or something . . ." Scandinavia frowned even more, looking from the infant to Germania. The man shook his head and mumbled something. In those words he muttered, there were a couple that sounded suspiciously like "stupid idiot".

"You feel the power radiating off of him, do you not?" Germania asked bluntly, that seemingly ever-present frown deepening in his features.

"Well, yes, I do, but what if - "

Germania shook his head. "No what ifs. You know I am telling the truth . . . You know that this infant is like us . . . don't you?"

"I suppose maybe a little, but - "

"No buts. Do you believe me or not?"

". . . Yes, _Bróðir_," Scandinavia muttered, feeling quite defeated. Germania let a small smirk cross his face.

"Then you get to watch him," Germania decided, the smirk on his face growing a tiny bit wider as he imagined what his brother would do next. He wasn't to be disappointed.

Scandinavia's eyes widened, almost comically, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms before looking back towards his brother. "You want _me_ to watch a baby? Like, _raise_ him?"

Germania nodded. "Yes, that would be what I implied . . ."

Scandinavia stared at him with a look of utmost disbelief. "But . . . but . . . _Bróðir_ . . . you're always the one that says I can barely look after myself!"

"Well, maybe this will be a little lesson for you." Germania stared at his brother, right in the eye, and it got to be so long that Scandinavia looked away. His brother was older. And strong. And fierce. Sometimes it could be intimidating.

"Why don't you take him?" Scandinavia asked, his voice quiet for the first time that day - and in a long time.

"Because I didn't find him," Germania answered simply, not moving his eyes away from his brother's face - a face that was still looking down at the ground. "That is the rule. When you find a young new nation in _your_ land, you raise it. You found this baby up north, correct? That is not my land, it is yours. You know that little boy Rome found a few years ago? Austria?"

Scandinavia nodded slowly, his eyes slowing raising from their fixed point on his shoes. "Yes."

"Well, I am taking care of him now . . . for he was found in my land, and after Rome's decline he could not take care of so many colonies," Germania told his brother.

Scandinavia bit his lip and looked down at the little infant in his hands. The boy had previously been sleeping, but now his eyes, which were big, bright orbs of blue that reminded Scandinavia of his journeys on the sea as a Viking, were now wide open, staring up at the man with curiosity.

"But he's so small . . ." Scandinavia mumbled, his eyes still locked with the baby's. "How could I possibly take care of such a small thing . . . ?"

The kettle that was on the stove shrieked to let Germania know that the water inside it was hot, and he sighed as he stood up. The nation glanced over at his younger brother before he walked over to the stove and removed the kettle, then poured it into his cup along with some tea.

"You will be able to do it, Brother," Germania announced softly. "If I can do it, then I know that you can do it." He paused for a moment, and then continued on, even softer. "And you know, if you need it, it never hurts to ask for help."

Scandinavia's eyebrows shot up and he looked up towards his brother in surprise. "Ask for help? From who? _You_? It's not like you ever ask for help."

Germania sighed and shook his head, raising his cup of tea to his lips and blowing on it gently. "No, but it would not hurt to ask for it. Who knows, with all of these new little nations popping up everywhere, or so I have heard, it might not hurt us to try and help each other."

Scandinavia blinked and slowly looked back down at the infant in his arms, who was still staring up at him silently. "Yes, I suppose . . ."

There was silence between the pair of them for a few long minutes, as each of them contemplated their conversation, and what had just happened. Finally, Germania lowered his cup of tea from his lips and spoke in his quiet, low voice.

"What are you going to name him?"

Scandinavia blinked once again and looked up from the baby to his brother. "What?"

Germania sighed in slight aggravation. Why couldn't his brother just listen the first time around? "What are you going to name him?"

"Well . . . I found him in Denmark . . ." Scandinavia muttered. Then his eyes then widened. "Do you think that is the nation he represents? I mean . . . Denmark, Sweden, and Norway are becoming pretty distinct now . . . lots of people do not just refer to them as the same place anymore . . ." He frowned slightly, wondering what exactly this meant for him.

Germania simply offered a casual shrug. "What do you think?"

"I think . . ." Scandinavia sighed. "Yes, actually, I think he does."

"Then he _is_ Denmark . . . but what about his human name?"

Scandinavia pursed his lips in thought for a few moments, before he declared, "Mathias. His name is Mathias."

Germania smiled a little, despite himself, and nodded. "The Kingdom of Denmark, otherwise known as Mathias."

"I have to admit," Scandinavia said with a grin, "it does have a ring to it."

**So I dunno if that was at all interesting but I wanted to write it . . . ^_^**

**Explanation on the no parents thing: that is my headcanon. I mean, while I was contemplating about the Ancients and their "children" and everything, it seemed pretty impossible that like, ten European Ancients could have as many "children" - the modern countries and ex-countries like Prussia - as they did. That and their genetics just didn't seem to click. XD Besides, England found America alone in the wilderness, so I'm pretty sure it's okay to assume that all of the nations started out this way. XD They all have a "parent" or "boss" figure, at least in my mind.  
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**I love the Nordics, so . . . that was the reason for this. XD The next chapters will be one-shots about the meetings of the rest of the Nordics, though I might be willing to branch out and do other characters, too . . . you can leave suggestions, but I'll only do it if I'm interested enough. :) There's not really any use in writing something I'm not interested in. XD**


	2. When Denmark Met Sweden

Chapter Two: When Denmark Met Sweden

Denmark scarcely remembered the day _Faðir _brought _Sverige_ home. He was still young, young enough not to be separated by too many years from Sweden as they grew older; many people might have even guessed that they were the same age, possibly giving or taking a year. Still, though. Denmark _was _older, and it was something that he often rubbed into the other nation's face, if only to be bothersome. And he did remember when their _faðir_ (or _Far_, as Denmark had started to call him) arrived home with Sweden - though the Swede remembered it faintly, too.

It had been a cold day, a day in the middle of January. Snow had started to fall gently outside by mid-morning, but that hadn't stopped _Faðir _from slipping on his snow shoes and going for a hunt.

Denmark, or Mathias, as _Faðir _called him by his "human name", was told to stay at their house, and that suited him just fine. It was a nice house, one that they had moved into just as the winter months began. The house was located on the outskirts of a small fishing village that bordered the sea. It was a quaint village, full of people that were generally cheerful and friendly. When newcomers came along, it was quite an occasion, especially when the newcomers happened to be wealthy, like the townspeople assumed Mathias and his father were. They were, after all, living in a large house that was previously owned by a man of noble stature.

Mathias had been attempting to read some texts in his father's study when he heard his father's loud, deep voice call him downstairs. The language of the texts was in runic, the written form of Old Norse, and thought his father was teaching him to read the runes, Denmark wasn't terribly good with them yet. Oh well. It was still fun to try and decipher what exactly the scripts said.

The boy, only around the age of five or six, raced down to the entry hall to greet his father. He almost threw himself at his father for a hug, but stopped when he realized what - or more like _who _- was standing next to him.

"_Faðir_ . . ." Mathias started, but his father held up a hand for him to be quiet. Normally Mathias could talk in his loud and cheerful voice until someone's ear fell off, but he knew better than to talk out of turn around his own father.

"This is Sweden," the older nation announced, a smile appearing on his face. "You may also call him Berwald. He's just like us, Mathias. Isn't that great?"

Mathias couldn't help but frown slightly, even as he uttered the words, "Oh yes, _Faðir_, of course."

The older nation, Scandinavia, raised his eyebrows at his son's own frown, then asked, "Is there something wrong, Mathias?"

"Oh, no, _Faðir_, of course not!" Mathias replied quickly, though he couldn't help but feel something . . . _strange _boil up inside him. "Where did you find him?"

"In the forest while I was on my hunt," Scandinavia responded with a nod. He glanced down at the little boy that was standing by his side and gave him an encouraging smile. The boy shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking awkward and nervous. He sent a quick glance to Mathias before looking to Scandinavia, then finally down to his shoes.

"Well how do you know he's like us, then?" Mathias asked curiously, tilting his head as he glanced up at his father.

Scandinavia smiled at him. "Just like I could tell with you, Mathias. I just _knew_."

"How did you just _know_?" Mathias asked, frowning slightly despite Scandinavia's jovial smile, a smile so much like his own. He knew his father was something like intelligent, but he didn't know how the older nation just _knew _that this little boy was anything like them.

Scandinavia shrugged and put a hand on the other boy's - _Sweden's _- back, then began to lead him over to where Denmark stood. "I just _know_, Son. You'll understand when you're as old as I am."

Mathias's eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly to the side again, but straightened out and gazed at Sweden with curiosity when he stepped in front of him, still led by Scandinavia. The boy was smaller than him, short and slight, but probably a bit younger as well. His messy blond hair was several shades lighter than Mathias's, whose hair was more of a golden color. The boys eyes were small and reminded Mathias of the sea, or maybe some jewels that his father would bring home on occasion; a sort of cloudy, light greenish-blue color.

Finally, Mathias asked, "So . . . he is going to be living with us now?"

His _faðir _nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. Where else would he go?"

Mathias shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with his question. "I dunno. I was just asking." He glanced at Sweden again, and after a few seconds of thinking to himself, finally smiled his usual cheerful smile at the boy. "Well, _Faðir _did not tell you my name; I'm Mathias!"

Sweden's eyebrows scrunched together. "Mathias? That doesn't sound like the name of a country . . ." He had a very quiet way of speaking, an almost incomprehensible way of speaking, but Mathias was just able to make out his words - barely. "I have known commoners with the name Mathias."

Mathias shook his head, immediately taking on a grin. He swung one of his arms around the other boy's shoulders. "No, silly! Mathias is my human name. You know, like . . ." He frowned ever so slightly and looked up to his father.

"Berwald," the man supplied, and Mathias nodded vigorously, grinning again.

"Yes, Berwald! Just like Berwald is for you. My real name is Denmark."

"Denmark?" Berwald asked quietly, glancing at his new brother with a small frown. "That is a strange name."

Denmark frowned right back at him. "Why?"

Berwald shrugged. "It just is."

Mathias swung his arm off of Berwald's shoulder and crossed both of his arms across his chest. "Well, what is so great about _Sweden_?"

The other young nation shrugged again. "I like Sweden better."

"But Denmark is so much better!" Mathias exclaimed, almost seeming in shock. "I mean, it is _me_, after all. And I'm the best."

Scandinavia sighed and began to lead the boys into the dining room for supper. They were already arguing. Great. Little did he know just how bad _that _feud would get.

**A note - Sweden only looks smaller than Matthias because he's younger. He grows to be bigger than him eventually. XD**

**Anyway, as always, leave reviews or constructive criticism, and suggestions if you want to!**

**PS - I like the next chapter better than this one . . . I hope it's better, anyway. XD**


	3. Three's a Crowd

Chapter Three: Three's a Crowd

Both Sweden and Denmark could recall the time when _Faðir _brought Norway home. The boy himself could remember quite well, too, even though he was younger than them, and even physically appeared so at the time (while Denmark and Sweden both looked around the same age).

_Faðir _had been away on a trip, to go on Viking raids with some of his men; and he had come back with a little boy who looked no older than six. Denmark and Sweden both appeared to be about eight at the time, even though more than three years had passed since their father had found Sweden. Sweden and Denmark tried to be more sophisticated than the younger boy, although the boy was very mature for his age, and sometimes seemed even more solemn than Sweden was. And to Denmark, he sure was quieter, especially in those early months, even though Sweden was _normally _the quiet one.

It happened to be yet another day when _Faðir _went hunting with some of the men from the village (they had moved since _Faðir _found Sweden) that Denmark decided to try and find out more about their new _bróðir_. He was staring out the window as _Faðir _walked down the path from their house, soon disappearing into the thick foliage of the woods. Denmark immediately turned from his spot by the window and raced up the stairs to his new brother's bedroom. The young Dane didn't even think twice before opening the door.

He found Norway sitting on the floor, reading from some runic scripts that _Faðir _had given him. Runes were fun to read . . . _sometimes_. But Denmark didn't feel like reading them now, and so he figured that he would try to convince _Norge _out of reading them, too. Maybe they could actually do something that was even _more _fun.

"_Hej, Norge_!" Denmark exclaimed happily, bouncing over to Norway and kneeling down in front of him. The other boy blinked and looked up, his navy blue eyes as dull as the depths of a motionless sea. Denmark still wasn't used to them. Even _Sverige's _eyes were more lively than Norway's, and according to Denmark, _Sverige_ was sometimes the most boring person in all of Scandinavia. Maybe even Europe!

"_Hallo_, Denmark," Norway said slowly, almost as if trying to be careful.

"We should do something _fun_!" Denmark announced, grinning at Norway.

Norway continued to stare at him, emotionless. "But I am having fun."

Denmark frowned slightly and scanned the other boy's face, his emotionless expression. "You don't look like you're having fun . . ."

"Well I am, so leave me alone," Norway deadpanned, glancing back down at the runic scripts in his hands.

"But there are so many other things we could do!" Denmark protested with a slight frown. He glanced up and outside of the window on the far side of Norway's room. It was summertime, and so even though the hours were nearing the evening and supper would be on the stove soon, the sun was still at a moderate place in the sky. There was still time to play outside. Sure, it was occasionally fun to read runes, but that was only on rainy and snowy days. Who would want to stay _inside_ and read when it was so nice _outside_?

Denmark frowned even further and reached out, snatching the runic papers out of the younger boy's hands before he could react.

"Come on, _Norrrrge_!" Denmark whined, but his sentence was cut a few beats short when the little boy jumped at him, successfully tackling him to the ground. Denmark shrieked and kicked at the other boy, and when one of his kicks finally hit Norway in the stomach, he staggered up and stumbled over to Norway's bed, which he proceeded to climb up on. From his perch on Norway's bed, the young Dane held the ratty papers above his head.

"Come and get them, Norway!" Denmark sang out happily. His grin was large, one of those grins that _Faðir_ would say was practically stretching from one of his ears to the other. His eyes danced with playfulness, and though the Dane thought this was all fun and games, his Norwegian "playmate" didn't seem to think the same thing.

"Give me back my papers, _Danmark_!" Norway shouted. "I want to read them!"

"Noooo, _Norge_, not until you agree to play outside with me!"

The Norwegian boy's frown deepened, and after a few seconds of contemplating, he darted for the bed and reached out to grab Denmark's feet. Denmark squealed and leaped back, that seemingly ever-present smile still on his face. When Norway started to climb up onto the bed after him, Denmark shrieked in giddy laughter and jumped over the end of the bed, onto the floor. He laughed as he ran to the bedroom door and out it, where he continued on down the hallway.

_This_ was fun. Not reading a bunch of runes, but running and chasing. Why were Sweden and evidently Norway both so boring?

Denmark's laughter died down somewhere near the stairs, but he didn't stop running there. He paused just at the top of them and glanced back down the hallway, then raced down the stairs to the first floor of the house as soon as he saw that Norway was running after him. Denmark giggled loudly as he neared the bottom of the stairs and jumped off the second step to the bottom.

However, his fun ended when he turned the corner and bumped straight into his other brother, Sweden. The impact knocked both of them to the ground, and Denmark blinked once, then twice as he tried to figure out what had happened. He glanced up and noticed Sweden, then scowled as he jumped up, head slightly fuzzy.

"Sweden, don't run into me!"

The Swedish boy stood up, and, not at all trying to hide it, rolled his eyes. "I didn't run into you, Denmark. I am confident that _you_ ran into _me_. Watch where you are going next time."

Denmark frowned and heaved a heavy, impatient sigh, before he finally remembered who he had been running from - but it was too late. Norway had already caught up to him, and, before Denmark could start running again, had tackled him to the ground in a fierce attempt to get his papers - for which he succeeded. The Norwegian punched Denmark in the stomach (for they were the ever relentless and strong Viking that their father was) before he stood up, glaring down at the other Scandinavian boy.

"You didn't have to punch me!" Denmark groaned, slowly sitting up on the floor.

The small Norwegian boy rolled his eyes. "Serves you right for taking my runes."

"They're not even yours, they're Father's!" Denmark protested with a deep frown.

"He gave them to me to read," Norway replied curtly. "So as of right now, they _are_ mine."

"No they're not!"

"Yes, they are."

"No, they're -"

"That is quite enough, boys." All three boys, even Sweden, who had no part in the conversation thus far, turned with a slight look of horror on their faces. Denmark's was the most theatrical, of course, but there was only one person that could get even a slight look of terror out of the other two boys - their father, Scandinavia.

"Why are you arguing?" Scandinavia quirked an eyebrow at them.

"Because Denmark stole my papers and ran away with them!" Norway replied, frowning deeply at the other boy as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He wouldn't give them back."

Scandinavia sighed and glanced at his eldest son. "Denmark, is that true?"

Denmark pouted and crossed his arms over his own chest, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to get away with lying. "Yes, but - "

"No buts." Scandinavia shook his head.

"_But Faðir_ - !" Denmark tried to protest, but his father cut him off by injecting a stiff hand into the air.

"No, Denmark. I said no buts. Go to your room. You will eat supper there tonight."

Denmark's eyes widened as he mused over this horror. Having to eat supper in his room was _extremely_ bad. Not just because it meant that _Faðir _was mad at him, but also because eating supper in your room was a type of _humiliation_ in their household. Denmark had sent to his room without supper quite a few times, and even Sweden had been sent there to eat alone once or twice. Denmark's face flushed in crimson red in light of his embarrassment.

"Then I just won't eat, then!"

After he said what he felt needed to be said, Denmark turned swiftly on his heels and raced for the stairs. He darted up them, almost tripping at the top, then ran into his room and slammed the door loudly. Once he was safely inside the confines of his room, a few stubborn tears leaked from his eyes and he wiped them away furiously, then flopped on his bed, fixating his eyes on a spot on the wall that he continued to glare at for a few minutes.

The young Dane flipped over after a while and looked up at the ceiling. The sounds of silverware clicking against plates and light chatter fluttered up the stairs not too long afterwards, and Denmark began to feel a little guilty and sorry for what he had done - and what he was being forced to do now. It just wasn't fair.

A long time passed before _Faðir _finally entered Denmark's room, a bowl of warm stew in one of his hands, and a piece of bread with butter on it in the other. Denmark glanced up at him but looked away feverishly, instead deciding to glare at a certain spot on the wall. Scandinavia sighed and crossed the room to Denmark's bed. He sat down on the edge of it, and set the food down on the bedside table.

"_Hej_, son," Scandinavia said quietly, and Denmark finally turned to look at him with confused and hurt eyes.

"_Faðir_, I -"

Scandinavia sighed and shook his head. "You _are_ going to apologize to Lukas." Lukas, of course, being Norway's human name.

"But, _Faðir_ -" Denmark tried to protest again. However, he was cut off by a terse inquiry.

"What?"

Denmark winced slightly at how biting his father's voice sounded, but he forged on, determined to tell Scandinavia _his_ side of the story.

"Neither of them will play with me, Father," Denmark mumbled. He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not fair. I just want to play, or go outside and explore, or something, but both of them are just so boring . . ."

A small frown was beginning to form on Scandinavia's lips. "Who? Berwald and Lukas?"

"Yes, them!" Denmark said indignantly. "They won't play with me! They just want to stay inside all day and do boring stuff . . ."

"Well have you ever tried to do anything that they like?"

Denmark was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "Well . . . yes. I've _tried_, _Faðir_, really, I have. But it's like they don't want me to be around them." He frowned and looked down at his hands. "I just want somebody to play with."

Scandinavia blinked at his son, and then sighed. He could see where the young boy was coming from. Sweden and Norway were both more reserved than Denmark was, and they enjoyed doing more laid-back things, such as reading the scriptures that he brought back to them.. Denmark liked to do more lively things, and though he wasn't the biggest fan of nature, he did fancy being outdoors when it was nice outside.

"They are just different than you, Denmark," Scandinavia told his son, putting a hand on the boy's head. "I'm sorry that they don't want to play with you, but you should respect what they _do_ want to do." He paused when he saw a pout on Denmark's face. "Maybe if you respect them, then they'll play with you?"

Denmark shook his head stubbornly. "No! That doesn't work, Father. I always 'respect' them. I let them do boring stuff if they want to. But they _never_ play with me." His frown became increasingly deeper with his words.

Scandinavia pursed his lips. "You didn't have to do what you did today, though. You know that wasn't nice."

Denmark scoffed lightly, but then shook his head in consent. "I know. But I just wanted _Norge_ to play with me . . ."

"I know." Scandinavia sighed once more. "Why can't you play by yourself?"

"Because it isn't as fun!" Denmark said, as if this was blatantly obvious. And to him, it was. "There's never been anyone _fun_ around to play with."

There was silence between the pair for a few minutes. Denmark glanced up at his father and frowned slightly, waiting expectantly for him to say something. _Anything_, really. Silence made him uncomfortable.

"If you promise not to do that again, I'll try to get them to play with you," Scandinavia finally told his son, looking down at the boy with brilliant blue eyes - eyes that were somewhat like Denmark''s, only a much lighter shade.

"Promise?"

Scandinavia bit his lip. Promises were always hard to keep.

"Yes. I promise."

Of course, it would not be as easy as he thought it would be. The three children in his care were all stubborn, in their own ways. If Sweden and Norway did not want to play with Denmark all of the time, they wouldn't, and if they continued to not want to play with him, he would continue to pester them. And thus began a cycle that would last throughout the ages, going past playing outdoors versus staying inside. Their altercations would later become much more serious.


	4. The Little Boy in the Woods

Chapter Four: The Little Boy in the Woods

Denmark was finally old enough to go on a hunting trip with his father, and he was exited. It had been an excellent past time for his father, and Denmark was glad that he could finally learn how to hunt, after so many years of watching his father leave with a group of other men on hunting trips. This was special, too, because Sweden and Norway were not going. They chose to stay at the house. Sweden was old enough, almost as old as Denmark, and Scandinavia would have let Norway come if they wanted to. But those two, as boring as they were, chose to stay at home.

This was just fine with Denmark. For once, even though it was a short hunting trip and only for a day, he had his father all to himself.

Currently, Father was trying to teach Denmark how to use a knife, but it was not going so well. Denmark missed nearly every target that he was supposed to it at, and he just could not seem to throw the dagger right with his small, clumsy fingers. Scandinavia sighed on the eighth try, debating on whether or not to just give up.

"_Faðir_, if I have something real to shoot at, I'll be able to get something!" Denmark said after his father had been silent for several minutes. "I promise!"

The young Danish boy glanced around the clearing that they were in with narrowed eyes. They were unusually shrewd, alert. Scandinavia raised an eyebrow and was about to say something, but there was a crunch of snow that made them both freeze. Denmark's eyes searched the perimeter, and finally seemed to lock on the source of the noise. Then, he raised his weapon and aimed it. Scandinavia noticed that the thing that made the noise was too late, for the dagger had already been flung out of his son's hand before he could stop it. The thing that was hiding just behind the bushes made a yelping sound and crashed to the ground.

"_Faðir_, I got it!" Denmark exclaimed, smiling broadly up at Scandinavia. Despite Denmark's happiness, his father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. Too hard. Denmark said "ow!" and frowned, while Scandinavia pushed him back a few steps.

"Stay there," he told his son in a stern voice. Denmark knew that strict voice, and it meant that he had done something bad. So instead of arguing, he looked down at the ground and tried to remain perfectly still - which did not work for very long.

Scandinavia rushed over to the place where Denmark's dagger had gone flying, and parted a few branches to make his way inside the forest. Just a few feet away from him, he saw a young boy laying on his back, fat tears streaming out of his eyes. When he saw Scandinavia, the boy made a small gasping sound and tried to back up. He was holding his shoulder, which had a little amount of blood coming out of it. Denmark's knife was lying a in between the two of them.

"Don't hurt me again!" The boy said meekly. He sniffed. "I-I didn't do a-anything, so p-please don't hurt me a-again."

Scandinavia smiled warmly, though his eyes were sad at the sight of the boy. This boy had to be younger than Norway (even though his three children did not age normally), and he was covered in dirt and grime, his clothes tattered and filthy.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Scandinavia replied calmly. He started to walk closer to the boy, but the boy back up again, uneven sobs emitting from his mouth. "It was an accident. I will not hurt you. I promise."

The boy seemed to consider this and finally nodded slowly, more tears making a trail down his cheek. "As long as you don't hurt me."

Scandinavia's smiled was amiable and welcoming as he walked over to the boy and bent down next to him.

"Do not worry," he replied as he lowered the collar of the boy's shirt down past his left shoulder ever so slightly, so that he could see the wound. It was a small scrape, and not too much blood was dripping out of it, but it must have hurt for the small child. "I will never harm you. My son thought he was throwing his knife at an animal, and for that I am sorry."

Denmark was getting impatient. "_Faðir_, what is going on?" He called from the clearing.

Scandinavia sighed and shouted back, "Stay where you are, Matthias! I'll be back soon!" He turned back to the other boy and began to examine his wound again. "Tell me, boy, what is your name?"

"My . . . my name?" The child asked quietly, as if no one had ever asked him the question before. Scandinavia looked up in surprise.

"Yes, your name."

"I don't . . . I don't have one," the boy sniffed, tears welling up in his eyes again. Scandinavia was starting to get an uneasy feeling about this.

"What kind of child does not have a name? Come on, boy, you must have one."

The little boy shook his head. "No, sir. Not one that I know of." Yet he seemed very polite. How odd.

"Are you sure?" Scandinavia asked, and when the boy nodded, he asked another question. "Then where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

Scandinavia looked and looked up at the boy's face, his eyes, as if those would give some kind of answer.

"Nowhere?" He asked.

The boy shook his head. "No, sir. I don't remember being from anywhere. I'm just from around the woods, I guess."

"Ah . . . I see . . ." Scandinavia replied, giving himself a moment to take all of this in. This boy, being in the woods all alone . . . that was standard for any new country. They popped up out of nowhere, with no parents, no names, no clue of who they were. They were normally young, generally a toddler or a child of around five or six. Denmark had been the youngest to be known to be found, as a baby. This boy looked around five years old.

"Well, why don't we take a little walk?" Scandinavia asked. He stood up and held his hand out to help the boy up as well.

"A walk?" The child asked.

Scandinavia nodded. "Yes. A walk. I think . . . I have something to explain to you. My house is only a little ways away. Why don't we go there and I can tell you on the way? I'll fix your arm up as soon as we get there."

The boy looked slightly wary, but nodded anyway. "Alright . . ." He used Scandinavia's hand to help himself up.

Scandinavia led the boy to the clearing. The child walked uncertainly, as if on new legs, and this gave Scandinavia one more hint to his suspicions.

Denmark regarded the boy curiously, and as Scandinavia walked past him he whined, "_Faðir_, who's thaaaat?"

"Be quiet, Denmark," Scandinavia replied. His voice was strict, but not too strict. Denmark figured that this was a good thing, so he fell silent, especially glad to after Scandinavia said, "I will tell you when we get home."

The first twenty minutes on the walk to Scandinavia's house was filled with him asking questions of the little boy and the boy answering them to the best of his ability. The last ten were entirely occupied with Scandinavia explaining to the boy what he must have been, and in turn what Denmark and Scandinavia himself were. The boy took this all in silence, and when they were in view of the house, only a couple minutes after Scandinavia had finished his speech, he stopped. Both the little boy and Denmark stopped with him, though the latter was a few feet behind them.

"So what do you think?" Scandinavia asked the little boy.

"It's . . . It's great," the child finally decided, after some hesitance. Scandinavia felt a little smile creeping onto his face.

"It's great?"

"Yes, I mean . . ." The boy took a deep breath. "Being a country. It's great. Kind of like I cannot believe it." He paused, and then added something in an unsure matter. "But I feel like it makes sense. Like it makes sense with me. Does that make sense?"

Scandinavia's smile only got bigger. "Yes, it does. I used to feel the same way when I thought it was young and did not know who I was. But you understand why we have to keep it a secret from people that are not like us, right?"

The boy nodded slowly. "Yes . . . yes, I think I do."

"That's great!" Scandinavia said joyously as he started walking to the house again. His pace was faster this time, and the boy had to jog to keep up with him. Denmark ran to catch up with them.

"Wait, _Faðir_!" He exclaimed as he stepped into line with the other two. "So is he like us?" He glanced at the boy with a curious eye yet again.

"Yes, he is, Son," Scandinavia replied, a delighted smile gracing his face.

"Oh . . . that's great!" Denmark said, grinning. He looked over at the other boy. "There's Sweden and Norway, too. They can be kind of boring, though, so if you ever want to have fun, you can come to me!" His smile brightened.

"Oh . . . yes, I will keep that in mind," the other boy replied, smiling slightly - shyly - at him.

This only made Denmark's ego shoot up, and he beamed as he stomped into the house, announcing very loudly, "We have a new brother!" 'We', of course, referring to him, Sweden, and Norway.

The latter two came racing down the stairs - it was a rare occurrence for them to be running, but they wanted to see this supposed "new brother" as soon as possible. When they came close to the little boy, he shrunk back slightly, and hid behind Scandinavia. The man chuckled and put a reassuring hand on his back, then led him and the other boys into their roomy, warm kitchen.

Once inside, the boy proceeded to pull of his dirty, shabby boots. They were made of a mushy sort of fabric, and seemed to be coming apart. He glanced at Scandinavia, and the man nodded, a sign that he could set them down. The young boy tentatively set his shoes down by the door leading to the kitchen. He then slipped his coat off - it was a bit large for him, now that Scandinavia looked closer at it - and looked back up at confirmation that it was appropriate. Scandinavia smiled at him and held out his hand.

"Here, let me take that. I'm sure we can find you a better one. One of the boys' old ones."

"Oh, no sir, don't trouble yourself," the boy replied with a shake of his head.

Scandinavia raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it is not trouble, my dear boy! You are going to be living here now with us, like one of us. Because you are one of us. I wouldn't have any other way." He smiled wider. "Now give me that filthy thing." His tone was jovial, and so the boy smiled a bit sheepishly and handed the coat to him.

After a short deliberation process, Scandinavia decided to name the boy Finland; well, that was his country name, anyway. Besides, his brother had warned him that he would find another country soon, with all of that free space northern Europe had. Scandinavia had asked his boys for help with the human name, and they had all finally (after some arguing) decided on Tino Väinämöinen. It was not a very Scandinavian name, but the boys had heard it from somewhere else, possibly from some southern European country. The last name had

As Scandinavia watched the boys, he could not help but feel a bit of sadness. Something was happening to him. A very slow process, but he was sure of it.

He was not going to be around forever, and he was not sure how much time he had left.

Of course, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Finland would take over his lands. Become countries of their own. But Scandinavia knew that his time was ending, that he would not always be around for them. Sure, he probably had a hundred more years to him, being a country and all, but his boys would still be young in country terms when he . . . what? Died? Passed on? Or what if one day, they just woke up and he was not there? What if he faded.

Instead of telling the four boys of his fears, he smiled happily at them and began to prepare dinner. There was plenty of time to tell them later, when they were a bit older. He would be around for at least that long.


	5. The Fifth

Chapter Five: The Fifth

"_You shall call him Iceland, or by his human name . . . Emil."_

Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Finland were accompanying their father to a newly acquired land that was now apart of the "Viking Kingdom". It was a small island, much more west than any place that they had lived before. Their father had said that they would only be living there for a few months in the summer, until the fall came. This suited all four boys just fine; the island, which Scandinavia and his men had dubbed "Iceland", was very beautiful in the part that their house had been built. It was lush and green in the spring, and the lake and ocean nearby were both stunning. However, they also knew from stories that as one traveled northwards or to a higher elevation, the landscape became rough with tundra and glaciers and volcanoes. The island was a mystery still to everyone, even Scandinavia himself. Despite the fact that he was a nation, and to his boys, all-knowing, Scandinavia was scared of this land. He was scared because he did not yet know the extensions of the wonders of this new island, and he normally knew everything about the places that he traveled to. With the reason, out of his own fright and unknowing, he had told his boys to never wander too far from the house, even going as far as telling them the boundaries, which were about half a mile in each direction.

Denmark, of course, had been the one to break Scandinavia's warning and rule, and go past the boundaries which he and his brothers were assigned. Somehow, he had managed to convince the normally calm-tempered Sweden and Norway to go with him, as well as young, sweet, and innocent Finland. None of the boys had necessarily wanted to go, as they were all fairly obedient and did not want to break their father's rules, but after nearly a month of exploring the area that they were allowed to explore outside of the house, all of the boys had gotten curiouser and curiouser, and had finally agreed to follow Denmark a little bit past their set boundaries. They had, to the dismay of Sweden and Norway when they found out, gone much farther than Denmark had said they would.

"Denny . . . shouldn't we go home now?" Finland asked quietly as they continued to walk along, using his pet name for Denmark.

"Yes, we probably should," Sweden murmured. Even at such a young age his voice was starting to mature and was becoming more gruff. It irked Denmark, since his voice was still the same loud and childish pitch that it had always been.

"Aww, no, my brothers!" Denmark protested, frowning slightly. He raised the stick that he had picked up and been carrying like a staff, then waved it in the air. "We must venture forth with our quest!"

Norway sighed. It was a quiet sigh, but slightly prolonged; annoyed.

"No, Denmark, they're right, we should go home," the younger nation commented, glancing over at his older brother. Denmark frowned as he turned to face the Norwegian.

"Awww, come on, but _Norwayyy_!" Denmark whined, putting on his best "pouty" face, which Norway only rolled his eyes at. He turned and pointed to something in the distance, several yards away from them. "You see that cave right there? That's the last place I wanted to explore. Then we can go home, I promise!"

Norway did not look convinced. "No. We go home now." He turned on his feet and began to walk the opposite way that they had been previously.

"No, I say we explore that cave!" Denmark shouted, stomping his foot down stubbornly. "And I'm the oldest, so what I say goes."

"Just because you're older doesn't mean you're smarter," Norway responded quietly, turning back around, though he didn't move forward towards Denmark or the others (who had not yet moved) again. "We're going home because it's getting dark outside and father's going to get worried."

Sweden nodded in agreement. "It is already past dinnertime."

"I think he might already be looking for us . . ." Finland piped up softly. He was the youngest out of the group, and it was extremely obvious, since he was at least a head shorter and somewhat softer-looking than the rest of them. His voice was smaller, too, and he all around just seemed younger and more naive.

"But it'll only take a few minutes!" Denmark argued. "Only a _few_. And he isn't looking for us, Finland." The Dane glanced around at his brothers, and once he realized that he was most likely not going to get his way, he turned and began to run for the cave. Denmark heard one of his brothers give an exasperated sigh and then other pairs of feet began to run after him, which made him grin. He knew that they'd follow.

"I swear it'll just take a few minutes!" Denmark shouted back to them as he reached the cave. He stopped at the entrance and began glancing around in fascination. There was just enough light to see quite far into the cave, but the sun was quickly descending in the west.

"It'll be fun," Denmark added, in a normal tone this time (which was still quite loud for him). He started to walk into the cave, looking around with curious eyes, but a hand grabbing his lower arm stopped him. He looked around and frowned at the person who was holding him back, who happened to be Sweden.

"We should go back home," Sweden mumbled, looking at Denmark with his fierce, piercing eyes. "It is getting dark. It is not safe."

Denmark rolled his eyes and wrestled his arm out of Sweden's hand.

"Come on, Berwald!" He said, using the young nation's human name. The expression on the Swede's face did not change. "We've gotta go explore this cage a little bit. There is probably something -" He stopped mid-sentence as a cry was heard. A cry, not all too different from that of a very young human child. A toddler, or even a baby. Denmark's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Um . . . did you hear that?" He asked, glancing up at Sweden. The boy's had finally had a slight emotion change, going from stoic (as stoic as a boy as young as him could be, anyway) to slightly surprised. His eyes had widened slightly, and now did not look so fierce.

"Yes, of course," Sweden replied, his voice hushed like it usually was. "But be quiet and listen."

Everyone, including Norway and Finland, who had had no input in the conversation thus far, froze and listened. A few seconds later, the crying started again; it was louder this time and all four of them could hear it better, and they all determined silently, though simultaneously, that the cry was most likely from a baby. There were no words, just sobbing and wailing sounds, gibberish.

"A baby . . ." Denmark muttered, his eyes suddenly going wide. "Gods, a baby!" He glanced at Sweden once more, and the boy opened his mouth to say something, but before Denmark could hear what it was he had already ran off, deeper into the cave, towards the sounds of the yammering child.

The other boys followed him, and soon enough, they had reached the farthest part of the cave where light reached, and even that light was going to be gone soon. The sun had receded even further since they had reached the cave. Denmark's eyes searched for a baby, and his eyes finally locked on something not too far away from him. He rushed over to it, his brothers following closely behind.

"My gods, it _is_a baby . . ." Denmark announced, his voice now filled with awe. "But why . . . how . . ."

Suddenly, Norway was standing next to him, examining the child. His eyes searched the baby's face and the rest of his small body, noticing everything. The infant was dressed in tattered, thin clothes that look like were directly from the coat of an animal. The baby had silverish-white hair, and although it was not an old man or woman, the hair seemed to suit it just fine. It's cheeks were rosy and its skin was pale, though almost _too_pale, Norway noted; like it was sick or something. Almost as soon as Norway had finished examining these traits, the babe's eyes popped open. Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland found themselves staring at two brilliant violet orbs, that were not too far in color from the latter's own hue.

Norway started to reach out for the baby, but Denmark stopped him briefly by saying, "Norway, don't pick him up! What if he's . . . diseased or something?"

The younger nation simply rolled his eyes and continued to reach for the infant. He picked the baby up in his arms and brought him close to his chest, like he had seen parents and older siblings of babies do back in their old villages. The baby stared up at him with big, curious violet eyes, and cocked his head to the side in slight wonderment.

"Don't be stupid, Denmark," Norway said, a light feeling in his chest. "This baby is not dangerous; it is just like us."

Denmark frowned at the Norwegian, entirely unconvinced. "And how would you know that? Only father knows stuff like that." He rolled his eyes, believing this was obvious.

"I can just feel it," Norway muttered. The baby had closed its eyes and was probably falling back to sleep, so Norway carefully lifted the lower part of its clothes, which consisted of pants, to check its gender.

Like them, and _most_other nations, it was a boy.

"Maybe we should take him to _Faðir_," Finland suggested. "I mean, _Faðir_ would definitely know, right?"

"I agree with Finland," Sweden added with a nod. "_Faðir_ would definitely know if he is like us, and what to do with him. Yes, Denmark, Norway?" He looked to each of his brothers as he said their names.

"Probably . . ." Denmark said, glancing at the baby again. Norway simply nodded, still holding the baby close to him. To other eyes, it might have looked cute, since Norway looked only a mere eight or nine years old himself.

"Let's go, then!" Finland said, eager to get out of the dark that was now overtaking the cave. He bounded outside, and his brothers followed at a slower pace.

The four brothers began their trek back home with a baby, and once they were fairly close, back in what were supposed to be their boundaries for playing, they heard someone shouting for them. Quite a few people, actually. Probably a few men and a couple women. The brothers exchanged glances and continued on towards home at a faster pace. They had gotten only twenty feet from their house when Scandinavia ran out the back door.

"Oh, thank the gods you all are alright," he said as he rushed up to them. Denmark had to wonder _'__why __wouldn__'__t __we __be__'_, because they _were _nations, after all.

After he spoke his first sentence, Scandinavia's voice became infinitely more stern. "Where did you go off to? I had several of my good men and women that could have been home with their own families out looking for you. Did you -" Suddenly, just when the four boys had thought that Scandinavia would never see the bundle that Norway was holding in his arms, he stopped during his scolding and let his mouth hang open for a few moments. When he closed it again, he appeared to be thinking hard, before he finally asked what the bundle in Norway's arms was.

"Oh, that's just a baby," Denmark replied, brushing the fact away as if it was nothing. Scandinavia blinked and stared at him for a moment, before he finally held his arms out.

"Let me see," he commanded to Norway, and the boy complied. Scandinavia studied the infant for a long time, before he turned and began walking toward the house.

"I have to tell the men and women to go home," he said shortly as the four confused boys followed him inside. "Go to the front room and wait for me."

All of the brothers, even Denmark, followed his orders and walked into the front room. They sat down on the assorted chairs, and waited in quiet agitation for twenty minutes until their father returned. He still had the baby in his arms, and was cradling him close to his chest like Norway had, though in a more knowing and fatherly way, as if he had already taken to him.

The first thing out of his mouth was, "Where did you find this baby?"

After no one answered him, Scandinavia asked again, and Norway was the one to answer.

"In a cave beyond the house."

"Beyond the boundaries I set up for you?"

Norway was silent for a moment, and then replied, "Yes."

Scandinavia sighed heavily. "In which direction?"

"North, I believe, _Faðir_."

No one spoke a word for the next several minutes, until Scandinavia decided to scold his boys more.

"Sons, you cannot keep doing this," he stated sternly, glancing from one boy to the other. All of them, even Denmark, had known it would come to this if they got caught, and so they all lowered their eyes when Scandinavia's came too close to making contact with them.

"You cannot keep disobeying me," Scandinavia continued. He sighed slightly, and if it was not for the baby in his arms, he probably would have reached a hand up to his head to massage his temple. "I've told you this so many times and I don't know when it's going to get through to your heads. You have to start acting _mature_, and stop disobeying me. I don't know why you cannot just do that for me." The viking nation paused for a moment. "This is the only instance in which I'm glad that you disobeyed me, but _only_because I'm afraid I might never have found this child. That, however, gives you no excuse for your disobedience. You are all going to remain in the house for a week as punishment, you cannot explore outside, and when that punishment is lifted in a weeks' time, you are always going to be watched by somebody, whether it is me or a sailor that I trust. I am not going to stand for this disobedience any longer. You are all going to learn how to obey me." The baby started to cry a little bit, and Scandinavia comforted him until he had calmed down. "This baby is the representation of this island, Iceland. You shall call him Iceland, or by his human name . . . Emil." The boys all nodded slowly. "Now off to bed, no dinner tonight."

The four boys had started to slump off to their rooms when Scandinavia had ordered for Denmark to stay back. Denmark's eyes widened slightly and he looked to his brothers in slight panic, though Finland was the only one to give him anything near to an encouraging look as they continued to their rooms.

Denmark turned around and walked back to Scandinavia, saying, "Yes, _Faðir_?"

"_You_ especially need to stop disobeying me," Scandinavia said seriously. Denmark had expected as much, so he waited for his father to say more. "You are the eldest, which means you have the most responsibility." He paused for so long that Denmark finally looked up at him, noticing that his eyes seemed slightly far off, and he appeared to be in deep thought.

"_Faðir_ . . . ?" Denmark inquired carefully, not wanting to get his father more upset with him than he already was. Scandinavia glanced up at his oldest son, then down at the baby who had just became his youngest.

"Denmark, I am not always going to be around to take care of all of you."

"What do you mean?" Denmark asked. Scandinavia simply looked at him silently, though the look was all that needed to be passed between them for Denmark to understand. His eyes widened.

"No, but father . . ." he said, quiet for once. "Nations cannot die."

Scandinavia sighed. He was still gazing down at the sleeping infant, Iceland.

"No, nations do not necessarily die like humans do, per say," Scandinavia replied, his voice also uncommonly soft. "But we can fade. Fade into nothing, just as worse as a human's fate of dying. And Denmark, I'm telling you this now because you need to realize that you have to mature; I'm fading."

Denmark stared at his father. His bright blue eyes were wide, and his heart thudded in his chest with dread. He tried to comprehend what his father was trying to tell him, but it just wasn't working. He could not understand how one of the most powerful nations in the world, at least to him, could possibly be "fading", which just seemed like a nicer term for "dying".

"_Faðir_, please, I don't understand," Denmark said, whimpering slightly. Tears began to form on the edges of his eyes. "You could not possibly die."

Scandinavia sighed, though not the usual, annoyed, prolonged one that he had when he was scolding the boys. It was softer and quiet, it was sad and wistful. He stood up and gently placed the little, sleeping Iceland on his chair, then stepped closer to Denmark and wrapped him in a hug. The young nation finally let a few tears fall from his eyes and gasped out a sob, emotional because he knew, somehow, that what Scandinavia was telling him was the truth.

"You have to be strong, and brave," Scandinavia said quietly into his ear. "When I'm gone, you have to look out for your brothers. You have to start being mature and grown-up for them. Your are the oldest, and you have to look after them when I'm gone, do you understand me?"

Denmark nodded slowly, still clutching onto Scandinavia with a tight hug. It seemed as though it would never be easy for him to accept that his father, the great Scandinavia, the great representation of the viking nations, of all of the viking countries, could be dying. _His _father. How could _his _father be dying? And how could he, Denmark, possibly take his place when he was gone, with now _four _brothers to look after?

"You promise you will take care of them?" Scandinavia asked, pulling away from Denmark so that he could hold the boy by the shoulders and look into his eyes. "You promise that you will mature, and be brave and strong, and watch out for your brothers, keep them safe, and keep them together?"

Denmark nodded, sniffling slightly. His eyes were watery, allowing the blue of his irises to shine brilliantly.

"I promise, _Faðir_."

****So first off, I would like to say that I am very, very sorry for the long delay. I've been very busy with school lately and have been studying for finals. Therefore, I haven't had much time to write this, on top of schoolwork and the book that I'm trying to write. :( But anyway, I hope that everyone liked this update, and hopefully I'll have more time to write now since I'm off for summer break! :)****

****Anyway, I might continue this story with two or three other chapters, or maybe just one, detailing what happens when Scandinavia actually "fades/dies". I might go further than his death and lead up to my one-shot, "The Bloody Streets of Stockholm", to write about what happens to the Nordics later on, mainly just because I find them intriguing. Like this story is now, future chapters would be a little Denmark-centric, mainly so I can experiment with why I believe, in my heacanons, that he is clingy and hates losing people, among other things. Anyway, leave your thoughts on future chapters in reviews, and/or visit the poll that I have on my profile page. :)****

****Also, I was thinking about writing other one-shots dealing with other countries and their "brothers" and/or "sisters", so if you want any of these family-type stories, please leave countries that you want to see written about in reviews! :)****

****As always, I love reviews and help, so don't be afraid to give some constructive criticism! ****


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